


i want you to stay

by petalloso



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and also a little angst, lance insists they go on a date 4 weeks into dating, so they have a pool date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalloso/pseuds/petalloso
Summary: “Are you feeling alright?” Lance asks softly, pulling his hand out from beneath Keith’s shirt and tucking a stray tuft of Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith cocks his head in question, the movement making it so Lance’s hand easily shifts to cradle his cheek.“I'm fine?”“It’s just that you’re a little feverish,” Lance says, moving his hand to Keith’s forehead. “And you just kissed me.”





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> this is (mostly) FLUFF 
> 
> tw; there is violence&blood at the end of this chapter
> 
> the pacing is so weird i'm v sorry

Keith kisses him first.

They’re both sweaty and gross from training, and Keith is a little self-conscious about the way his shirt is sticking to his skin and his bangs to his forehead, but not enough that he doesn’t shove Lance up against the wall once they’re out of sight, hard enough that Lance grunts in surprise and looks down at Keith with wide eyes before Keith kisses him.

Despite the aggressive shove, the kiss is soft and light, just a brush of their lips before Keith pulls away, his hands still tangled in Lance's collar. His heart flutters like a hummingbird in his chest as he searches Lance’s face for some kind of reaction, _any_ kind of reaction.

Lance blinks once and then twice. His mouth is parted and his hands are up like when he’s trying to ward off Pidge after one minute too long spent annoying her, or feign ignorance about Hunk’s missing slippers after losing his own. Keith’s stomach is doing somersaults. He can feel the heartache already.

But then Lance moves, placing a warm hand at the back of Keith’s neck and tugging him gently back in. He smiles into the press of their lips, opening his mouth ever so slightly and making Keith gasp at the unexpected use of tongue and _was he always this much taller?_

Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat before finally pulling away. His eyes are glazed over when he looks at Keith. He looks like he can’t quite believe what is happening.

_Neither can I,_  Keith wants to say. He stays silent though, mouth parted and eyes half-lidded and cheeks burning, and tries not to think too hard about the heat of Lance’s hand resting halfway up his shirt, or how and when it got to be there in the first place.

“Are you feeling alright?” Lance asks softly, pulling his hand out from beneath Keith’s shirt and tucking a stray tuft of Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith cocks his head in question, the movement making it so Lance’s hand easily shifts to cradle his cheek.

“Fine?”

“It’s just that you’re a little feverish,” Lance says, moving his hand to Keith’s forehead. “And you just kissed me.”

Keith pouts and grabs Lance’s hand, pulling it down to the space between them but not letting go. “I’m not feverish. I’m overheated. And I kissed you because I wanted to, not because I’m out of my mind. Although considering it’s _you_ I might be.”

Lance flicks Keith’s forehead with his free hand, squeezing Keith’s with his other. “Rude,” he says, but he’s smiling as he does, and quickly leaning in to press another light kiss to Keith’s mouth.

“You kissed me back,” Keith observes when he pulls away. “How do I know _you’re_ not the one who’s feverish?”

“Well,” Lance starts, and then grins so brightly that all Keith can think to compare it with is the sun, which is cheesy and cliche but also something he's almost certain Lance is going to make him get used to. “If I am this has got to be the best fever dream ever.”

*

Lance had him all mapped out.

He was clumsy, yes. They both were. Everything was new and daunting and exhilarating. Their teeths clashed and their foreheads bumped and they sometimes switched shirts accidentally when a knock on the door interrupted them. Their fingers fumbled over zippers and their mouths misaimed and got noses instead and they sometimes got too ticklish with new hands in new places to do anything other than hold each other tightly and giggle.

But Lance _knew_ him, more so than anyone in his life ever had. It was almost unnerving really, how well he knew him, not just emotionally, but physically, too.

Like now, for example, the press of his deft fingers in just the right spot has Keith’s back arching off the bed. And the press of warm lips to his collarbone makes him shiver underneath Lance’s touch. Lance knows this, which is why he does it, which is why he’s smiling, or smirking really, when he finally meets Keith’s mouth with his own, and Keith can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed by his smugness. On the contrary, it makes him want to kiss him more. 

And he talks so much it’s crazy. You’d think his mouth would be busy enough, but somehow he finds the moments in between to ask Keith what’s alright, what he wants, what feels good and what doesn’t, and it makes Keith warmer and harder and want to flip Lance over and make _him_ feel what he feels instead. So he does.

Lance yelps in surprise but goes willingly, letting Keith turn him over so he’s now the one with his back pressed to the mattress. Keith straddles his waist and studies Lance for a moment. His hair has grown out longer, and it splays behind him on the pillow, soft and dark. His cheeks are a ruddy pink, his eyes look black instead of dark blue in this light, and he’s so beautiful Keith almost can’t stand looking at him, so he kisses him instead.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks quietly when Keith pulls away.  

Keith cocks his head slightly, leaning in to kiss him once more. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem…” Lance waves his hands around in search of the right words before settling them on the nape of Keith’s neck. “Really intense? Like more than usual.”

Keith frowns and leans forward again, pressing his forehead to Lance’s. His heart is in his throat thinking of what he wants to say, but he says it anyway, because he’s scared of this but it’s true, and Lance always looks at him like he’s someone worthwhile, and kisses him the same way, too.

“Maybe,” he says softly, and he doesn’t mean it to but his voice gives away all the meaning behind his next words, “because you make me feel that way.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Keith says, smiling at Lance’s stunned expression. “Did I break you?”

Finally Lance smiles, though this time it’s not a smirk, but gentler, softer, a smile only for Keith. “I think you might’ve.”

Keith grins and runs a hand down Lance’s bare chest, fingers light and teasing. “How about I make it up to you?”

*

“You know,” Lance says, sidling up to Keith after a team dinner. He slots his fingers easily with Keith’s, and Keith wonders when he’ll ever get used to the feeling of holding his hand, or how it can be possible that he already is but also isn’t. “We haven’t actually gone out on a date yet.”

“What?”

“Keith, c’mon!” Lance exclaims, sounding affronted. “We always either make out in your room or mine, and yeah it’s awesome and I never want to stop, but as your official boyfriend and you as mine I think we need to step up our game a little and actually go out on like, an official date.”

Keith’s wracks his brain for some kind of counter argument, more out of habit really than out of the need to object to Lance’s idea. But he quickly realizes that it’s true; they haven’t really, actually, officially, been on a date. At least not since they started dating, though he could easily recall date-like afternoons and nights they'd spent together before four weeks ago. 

He tries to think about what an _official_ date might entail. But all he can come up with is candles and rose petals and a cheek kiss on the doorstep, and he’s not really sure if that’s the kind of date Lance is talking about.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Will you… go out on a date with me? I guess?”

“That was weak, Keith. ‘I guess?’ Pretend I’m a cute girl you barely know from middle school and you’ve waited weeks to confess your undying love for me. Your friends are watching from behind the monkey bars. Her dad is the principal.”

“But you’re a cute _boy_ ,” Keith says, mildly confused. “We’re eighteen, inside a spaceship castle. And why do I feel like you're projecting?”

“Don’t avoid the subject, Keith,” Lance says, though doesn’t deny the implication of Keith’s question. “How about I ask instead?”

“Um, okay?”

“Right.” Lance clears his throat, straightens his back, and faces Keith directly, taking his other hand, too. “Keith, babe, I know that technically speaking we’ve been dating for a month now. In fact our four week anniversary, and yes I counted the days exactly, is just a mere forty-two hours away. You are my boyfriend already, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I know this is a little forward, but would you like to go out on a date with me tomorrow night?”

“That was…” Keith laughs gently, shaking his head, “kind of excessive. But yes, I would love to go out on a date with you.”

“By excessive you mean sweet and thorough,” Lance corrects. “And great, I’ll pick you up by your room at eight o’ clock tomorrow.” He gives Keith a peck on the lips. “See you then.”

“We’re going to my room now, aren’t we?”

“I mean, yeah,” Lance agrees. “But that doesn’t change the fact I’ll see you then, too.”

*

Lance does indeed pick Keith up at eight o’ clock sharp, holding a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers he must’ve picked from the last planet they’d been on a few days ago. He presents it to Keith with a slight bow and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Lance,” Keith says, holding them gingerly in his hands. He plucks one from the collection and tucks it behind Lance’s ear.

“They smell vaguely like sewage water,” Lance says, plucking another and placing it behind Keith’s ear to match. “But it was the closest thing I could get. More for show anyhow.”

“I’m impressed,” Keith says. “And at least we can smell like sewage together.”

Lance grins and grabs hold of Keith’s hand, dragging him down the hallway. He’s quieter than usual, and Keith wonders if he’s nervous, since this is technically their first date.

“Okay,” Lance says finally. “So remember that time months ago when we got stuck in the elevator and had to strategically climb up the shaft to get out because we wanted to go swimming and then never even got to swim because the pool was upside down and we were attacked by Zarturd a second later?”

“I definitely remember,” Keith says, because it was an eventful happening, to say the least.

“Well, I asked Allura how it _actually_ worked, and she kindly informed me that we simply flip the gravity fixer-upper off and float on right up there.”

Keith ponders this information for a moment. “I don’t know how accurate that sounds. And I didn’t wear swimming shorts?”

“You don’t need them,” Lance says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve seen your UFO printed boxers up-close and personal if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Keith punches Lance’s shoulder and Lance laughs brightly, grabbing him and pulling him in so his face is squished into his shoulder.

“They’re cute, babe.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Keith mumbles, but he has to hide his smile in Lance’s neck.

It turns out Lance had prepared beforehand for this, because he’s got two towels folded up in the corner of the room and food, too. Keith wonders if he got Hunk to help him prepare something semi-edible out of the food goo, because last he checked Lance couldn't make anything out of the stuff to save his life, or as he had so eloquently put it, to feed the "raging alien monster that lives inside my stomach and wants to kill me, Keith." 

Lance starts stripping first, tugging off his shoes and then his pants and then his shirt and jacket, leaving him bare except for his underwear. He’s grinning like a madman when he looks over at Keith, who has stilled, and is watching Lance without much thought of looking away. “You need a little help over there?” Lance asks, smirking.

“Yes,” Keith says, because he likes the way the tips of Lance’s ears burn and how his mouth always parts in surprise at Keith’s reciprocity to his blatant flirting, even after all this time.

“Um, okay,” Lance says softly, and goes over to Keith, closing the space between them in a few quick strides. He regains his composure soon enough, grinning when Keith pulls him in by the wrists and positions his hands on his waist.

Lance’s fingers dance at his waistline before he grabs the hem of his shirt and helps Keith pull it over his head, tossing it to the side without taking his eyes off him. His gaze travels downward, something warm and almost worshiping in his eyes, and Keith feels the heated flush of his skin starkly even against the warmth of Lance’s fingers now trailing down his chest and stomach, light and adoring.

Keith says nothing when Lance’s hands find their way to his pant zipper, and nothing when they’re finally bare chested and with a breath of an inch between them.

“We should… get in the pool,” Lance says.

“Okay,” Keith agrees.

So Lance walks over to the wall where Keith just now notices there is indeed a switch, and sure enough they’re floating upwards and falling into the pool, finding each other midair, holding hands and then their breaths as the water submerges them.

Lance opens his eyes in the water, Keith notices. He’s wearing contacts and definitely should not, because he’d be rubbing at his eyes all night and looking like he was just crying, but then Keith realizes he’ll probably be accused of hypocrisy if he tells Lance to stop, because his are open too, looking at Lance beneath the water and watching the way his brown hair floats and frames his face in the water, the way his cheeks are puffed out and how the bubbles surround him and dance on his skin.

Lance lets go of his hands and swims away. Keith swims to the surface and waits for him, surprised at how long he can hold his breath and then panicking internally for a second at the thought that Lance has drowned in the thirty seconds Keith hasn’t seen him. He laughs when Lance’s head finally pops up right next to him, squirting water from his mouth onto Keith’s face.

“Were you a swimmer,” Keith asks, splashing at Lance when he tries to wrap his legs around him and pull him down under the water.

“Yeah,” Lance says, successfully getting his legs around Keith’s waist. He leans back so his head floats on the surface of the water, and Keith is tempted to run a hand down his exposed neck, but doesn’t, instead placing two hands to the small of Lance's back to support him floating. “My mom used to joke that in another life I was a merman.”

“You kind of are.”  

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It’s weird that you think that,” Keith says amusingly.

“The merman life is a good one.”

“Hm,” Keith hums, laughing gently as he shakes his head. “You’d be a good merman.”

“I take it back,” Lance declares, wrapping his arms around Keith’s neck. “ _That's_ the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Keith laughs, leaning in to bridge the space between their lips and humming into the kiss. He runs his hands through Lance’s wet hair, leaning back only when he needs to catch his breath.

He’s about to say something sappy to get Lance to blush a deeper red than he already is, except Lance actually splashes him in the face, making him splutter and shake his head, and then retreats to the other side of the pool with a cackle.

“Lance, what the hell?” Keith says, trying and failing to keep the fondness from his voice. “You’d take advantage of me in a moment like that?”

Lance laughs and it echoes through the room, bright and happy. “I’m sorry,” he says dramatically, though he sounds anything but.

“I don’t accept it.”

“Hm,” Lance hums, paddling back over to him and pushing gently so Keith’s back presses against the pool wall. “What if I told you that you look prettier than usual in this lighting, which is really saying something.”

“That’s funny,” Keith says softly, his cheeks warm, and wraps his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him in even closer. “Because I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“Really?” Lance asks, smiling goofily. Even now he acts so surprised by Keith’s affection. Keith makes a note of showering him with it more often, just so he isn’t anymore.

“Mhm,” he hums. “You’re beautiful.”  

Lance hums happily, his smile stretching wider and his arms squeezing Keith’s waist. “And you’re gorgeous,” he retorts. “And I’m so lucky to have you, and I’m going to kiss you now just to make sure you know it.”

“Okay,” Keith says. He doesn’t wait for Lance though, instead leaning forward and closing the distance himself, kicking his feet to keep them afloat.

He's just about to pull away and make use of his lips on Lance's neck like he's been wanting to when a thought strikes him, and he abruptly pushes Lance off him, holding him by the shoulders so he doesn't go too far. Lance looks at him, confused and a little pouty, his wet hair sticking up in all directions. 

"Lance," Keith says. "How do we get back down?" 

*

“Let me walk you to your door,” Lance says, linking his arm around Keith’s.

“What a gentleman.”

“That I am,” Lance agrees. They stop walking just outside Keith’s bedroom door, and Lance unlinks their arms to hold Keith’s hands instead, looking him in the eyes when he speaks.

“I know it’s only the first date,” he starts, “but I really feel like I’ve known you all my life. So I wanted to ask, can I kiss you?”

Keith laughs gently, squeezing Lance’s hands in his and using them to pull him a little closer. “Well it is a little forward, but I feel the same, so the answer is yes.”

Lance smiles softly. “Okay,” he says, and kisses Keith. His lips are warm and soft and open, and his hands on Keith’s cheeks are, too. Keith’s heart beats hard in his chest, his stomach fluttering and heating, and he’s struck by the thought that kissing Lance never feels dull or boring, not even after kissing him a thousand times already, and so it’s easy to pretend this really is their first time, because he feels just as strongly about it, just as warm and loved and in love.

Lance pulls away when Keith’s hands start to wander with a breathless laugh. “Woah,” he says. “It’s only the first date. Don’t you want to take it a little slower?”

“Not really,” Keith says immediately, tugging Lance back in by his belt loops and parting his lips for him. Lance obliges for another minute or so before he pulls back away.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, brushing Keith’s hair out of his face. Keith nods, taking it to mean goodbye for the night.

“Okay,” he says, giving Lance a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Lance.”

“Good night, Keith.”

*

It’s only about fifteen minutes until Keith hears a light knock on his bedroom door. He’s just changed into his sleeping clothes, brushed his teeth and climbed into bed, his stomach still giddy and his mind racing too much to actually fall asleep.

He gets out of bed quickly enough, going to the door and opening it.

Lance is standing there, his hair disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it.

“You’re back,” is all Keith can say.

“Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t sleep and I know we usually don’t stay over but I figured I would ask because I want to spend the night with you but I don’t want to overstep because I know it’s only been a month but…”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, a little winded himself by Lance’s ranting. “I want you to stay.”

“Oh. Okay,” Lance says, visibly swallowing and taking only a moment to step inside the room. 

They talk away an hour or so, Keith running a light pattern over Lance’s hip and leaning in for a kiss every few minutes or so, interrupting Lance’s words before he smiles warmly and continues on. Until Keith notices that Lance’s voice is slowing and growing raspier by the minute, and that he’s probably forcing himself to stay awake so he can keep talking to Keith, which is sweet and too much and makes Keith’s chest swell, but it’s almost one in the morning and they probably have another early day tomorrow.

“Hey,” Keith says softly, tugging at the part of Lance’s shirt that’s ridden up from him having explored underneath it for a while. “You should sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Lance tells him.

“I’m two inches away from your face, Lance. I can see you blinking to stay awake.”

Lance mumbles something and then hugs Keith aggressively, pressing his cheek to Keith’s and blinking rapidly so his lashes tickle his skin.

“Lance,” Keith complains, trying (albeit not very hard) and failing to pry Lance’s hands from his arms. “This is not an effective diversion.”

“I’ll sleep if you sleep then,” Lance says, loosening his grip a little so that Keith can actually see his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you don’t,” Lance says. “Your incremental naps during the day are pretty evident of a sleeping problem. And these,” Lance says, pressing gently to the purple underneath Keith’s eyes with his thumbs.

“I sleep,” Keith says defensively, which earns him only a knowing look and a slight huff of breath from Lance. And while usually Keith would deny it further, with Lance he feels okay admitting things he hadn’t before. This is the part that scares him. How easily Lance knows him, how easily Keith lets him. It’s also the part he loves the most.

“I sleep… enough,” Keith corrects.

“Enough is not enough,” Lance says, and though the sentence makes no actual sense Keith thinks he understands what Lance is trying to say, which is that he needs more than the bare minimum of rest, more than just enough to function properly.

“Okay,” Keith says. “I’ll sleep. With you here it won’t be hard.”

Which Keith knows is true the moment he says it even though he has to evidence to back it up. At least not yet. Lance nods and smiles widely, then adjusts himself so that he’s practically clinging to Keith, his head resting on his chest.

Which is how Keith finds out that Lance talks in his sleep, waking to the sound of his soft murmuring only to fall asleep more quickly than before, because the sound of Lance’s voice is soothing and beautiful even in his sleeping, delirious state.

Which is how he gets the best hour of rest he’s had in his entire life.

He only wishes it could have been a longer one, a full night’s. And he doesn’t wish it for himself. He wishes it for Lance. 

*

Allura triggers the emergency alarm at half past two o’ clock in the morning, sending Keith sprawling to the floor with the sheets tangled around his ankles. He usually isn’t so alarmed by emergencies, but sleeping with Lance, or really just being with him at all, has left him a little more comfortable and a lot less at the ready, something which he has yet to figure out how he feels about.  

Lance grumbles something and lifts his head from the pillow it’s stuffed in. Keith watches his hands search for Keith before realizing the bed is empty beside him, and then open his eyes and peer down at him.

“You okay, babe?” He says sleepily.

“Fine,” Keith says, untangling himself from the sheets and going to Lance. He wraps two arms around him, lifting him from the bed. “Allura’s calling for an emergency.”

“Oh,” Lance says, blinks once. “Oh!” He says again, realizing what Keith has just said. He grabs his hand, dragging the both of them out of the door too fast for Keith to do anything but be dragged along with.

“We’re sending you down to planet Brahma,” Allura says once everyone has gathered, all looking to be in various states of drowsiness. “The civilians are under heavy attack and need defense forces immediately,” she says as they prep to get into their lions. “There are too many civilians to safely use the lions, so you’ll be engaging in direct combat.”

“Hey,” Lance says to Keith, pulling him in and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “Stay safe, okay?”

Keith regards him a moment before kissing him again, hard and swift and leaving Lance looking a little dazed, before taking his helmet out from under his arm and putting it on for him. “You, too.”

They drop down quickly, and everything happens so fast that Keith barely has time to scope out his surroundings.

Heavy attack, as it turns out, is putting it lightly. Keith is sure half the village has already been overtaken. He averts his gaze from the bodies lying on the floor, shoving down the ache in his chest and the lurch in his stomach at the sight. It used to be he was good at blocking it out. He’s not sure what’s changed.

He slashes through a druid and then two, quickly moving on to the next. There are so many of them, and he can already feel his arms tiring from the weight of his sword. He can hear the shouts of his teammates far from him, but with so many druids in front of him there’s nothing he can do right now to get to them. He can only hope they’re holding out on their own.

But he should have been paying more attention, he thinks later. Lance always did tease him about jumping in headfirst. His father always told him to look both ways before crossing. He never did. He never does.

He should have been watching, but he isn’t, and it’s too late to dodge the blast of something bright and hot that comes towards him. It should have been too late for Lance then too, to get in the way of it. Somehow, because it’s Lance, it isn’t.

It hits him in the chest. Melts through his armor. Something smells like burning flesh, like blood, like acid. He’s still standing, somehow, and looks down at himself, touching his chest lightly, like he doesn’t know if it’s real.

“Oh,” he says softly, and then falls backwards into Keith’s arms.

The fall seems a lot longer and further than Keith thinks it should be, like the universe has slowed time down specifically so he can live the moment longer, and really he shouldn’t be surprised that the universe would just for him. And the entire time his heart is caught in his throat.

He drags Lance to the first spot he can find with clear cover, behind an old scrap of spaceship metal, and lowers him down onto the ground as gently as he can, cradling his head. Only when Lance sputters up blood and then smiles at Keith in some stupid sacrificial attempt to let him know he’s fine, when he is not fine, does Keith understand what’s happening.

“No,” he breathes, pressing his hands to the open wound on Lance’s chest so hard that Lance inhales sharply and then groans in pain. “Nononononono. Lance. _Lance,_ what did you do? What the fuck did you just do?”

Keith is angry. He feels it everywhere, in his chest, in his aching limbs, blazing in his head. Blood from his forehead drips into his burning eyes and makes them burn worse. He thinks his insides are tearing into shreds, and all Lance can do is look up at him with stupidly too blue eyes, glassy and unfocused and struggling to stay open, and clutch weakly at Keith’s shaking hand in his own.

“Hey,” he says weakly. “It’s alright.”

He’s so stupid, Keith thinks angrily, and then chokes on his own tears. This whole thing is so stupid. It’s stupid that Lance is trying to comfort Keith when the one that needed comforting was him. He was dying. They both knew it.

“I hate you,” Keith says, and his throat hurts with the words. “I _hate_ you.”

Because it’s true. He hates that Lance would die to save him. He hates that he’s so in love with him that he’d do the same.

Lance grins. His teeth are red with blood. “I know you do.”

Keith says nothing in favor of pressing harder to the wound on his chest, trying to ebb the flow of blood. Lance’s chest shudders as he tries to keep from crying out, and Keith hates that his hands are hurting him, but the blood is leaking out from between his fingers and he needs to keep it inside Lance. He needs to keep him alive.

“Shiro,” Keith says into his helmet’s intercom. “Shiro. Allura. Please, anyone. Lance is hurt. I can’t leave him. I need backup immediately.”

His helmet’s signal crackles and then Allura’s voice is speaking into his ears, so calm Keith almost hates her for it, even though he knows she has to be just as worried. “We are on our way, Keith. Keep him safe for just a little longer.”

“Copy,” Keith says, and looks back down at Lance. His head it lilting sideways like he doesn’t have the strength to keep it up. Keith releases one hand from the pressure he’s putting to his chest and brings it back up to cradle Lance’s head, rubbing his cheek with his thumb. Lance brings a hand up to clutch at Keith's wrist. His skin is cold.

“Lance. Stay with me, okay?” His voice is desperate and breaking and broken. “Just a little longer. Stay with me.”

But Lance is slipping away. Keith feels his grip weakening on his hand, and he blinks away tears but they fall anyway, dripping from his chin and onto Lance’s cheeks.

He remembers Hunk’s voice, calling his name, and his own calling back. He remembers saying something important that he hadn’t meant to, not yet, not like this, even though he’d known it was true since the beginning.

He remembers, but Lance slips away, and Keith’s heart stops right alongside with his. And after that it's hard to remember anything more than a blur of panic and desperation, something to forget, something he cannot.

*

Keith sleeps in Lance’s room for six days, waiting for him to wake up.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here goes

Lance always felt a little sore after waking from the healing pod, like he’d just slept on running a marathon he hadn’t stretched for. His limbs ached slightly and his head seemed to function a little slower than usual, taking just a second longer to process the meaning of his friend’s words.

“You died and then came back to life,” Hunk tells him, and a second after embraces him in such a tight hug that Lance has trouble getting air into his lungs. 

“Uh, buddy, I love you too but I need to breathe,” Lance chokes out, patting Hunk on the back in half comfort half distress.  

Hunk releases him, though his hands still rest on his shoulders, firm and heavy. He looks at Lance like he’s under a microscope, and Lance quirks an eyebrow in question. 

“Don’t do that again,” Hunk says, and the gravity in his voice is surprising. Lance hasn’t heard Hunk use the tone often, and a brief feeling of guilt courses through his chest at the thought that he’s the one to have made him sound that way. “Also, Keith is sleeping in your room.” 

“What?” 

“Couldn’t look at you without punching something or crying,” Hunk says. “So he stayed in your room and hasn’t left in days. We kind of had to force feed him.” 

“Oh,” Lance says, knitting his brows in worry. “How long has it been?” 

“Six days,” Hunk says. 

“Jesus,” Lance breathes, running a hand through his hair. “Is he okay? Is everyone okay? What happened after I got hit?” 

“Well, we finished off the rest while Allura got you back to the castle. Keith, too. He couldn’t be much help after you… you know. Pidge rigged some explosives and Shiro and I got the rest. We met back at the castle, put you in the cryopod, and then waited. It’s two o’ clock in the morning by the way, otherwise the rest would be here to welcome you back to the world of the living, but you should definitely go see Keith first. Just a suggestion. He’s probably not sleeping anyhow.” 

“Wow,” Lance says. Strangely enough he feels at a loss for words. He’d usually crack a joke here to lighten the mood a little, but nothing clever or even remotely amusing is coming to mind, so he nods and moves back in to hug Hunk. “Thank you, Hunk.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunk says all casual, though the slight tremble to his voice says he is anything but. “Just try not to do that again. And go see your boyfriend, please.” 

“Will do,” Lance says, and salutes on his way out. 

*

Lance doesn’t bother checking Keith’s room first, remembering what Hunk had told him about Keith staying in Lance’s room instead. He knocks even though it’s his own room, and when there’s no answer, enters as quietly as he can, just in case Keith has managed to fall asleep. 

Keith is curled up on his bed, blanket useless underneath him. His back is towards Lance, so he hasn’t seen him yet. He looks so small laying there, and delicate, even though Lance knew Keith was no where near it. He can’t tell if Keith is asleep or not until he speaks, voice muffled like his nose is stuffed. 

“Go away, Shiro,” he says. They are words he’d usually say irritatingly, even angrily, but he sounds more tired than anything. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.” 

Lance hates the way he sounds, tired and defeated and empty. He hates that he’s the reason behind it, too. 

“It’s me,” Lance says softly. 

He can actually see the way Keith’s body stiffens. He rolls over to face Lance, and Lance takes in his face. It’s only been six days, and being asleep made it so he’d barely felt the time pass at all, but it feels like he’s looking at Keith for the first time in a long while, maybe the first time ever, when he'd passed him in the hallway of the garrison and practically stopped Lance's heart right then and there, and he’s just as beautiful as ever. 

Keith’s expression is surprised, and then distressed. His mouth is parted, and Lance notices that he’s wearing his jacket. The sleeves are too long, covering his fingers when he reaches out a hand over the side of the bed, a silent request for Lance to take it. 

Lance closes the distance as quickly as he can without tripping, taking Keith’s hand in his own and laying on the bed beside him, maneuvering his legs so they tangle with Keith’s and placing his other hand just underneath the hem of Keith’s shirt, just to rub circles into the soft of his stomach. 

He lets Keith take his time, lets him study his face with almost desperate eyes, because it gives him time to do the same with Keith. 

He notices how tired he looks. The dark circles are more prominent than ever, and his eyes are rimmed with a red color and watery, like he’d been crying, like he’s trying not to cry now. His lips are a cherry red, chapped and bitten, his cheeks flushed even though he’s running cold. His hair is messy and tangled and greasy like he hasn’t washed it. Lance looks and looks, his chest aching and his throat clenching with the urge to cry, because Keith looks like this, tired and hurting and like he hasn't slept or eaten for days, because of him. 

Keith runs a finger down from his temple to his jaw, his touch light but searing, and then cups his cheeks with both hands. They shake ever so slightly. “When did you wake up?” He asks quietly. 

“A few minutes ago,” Lance says. “Hunk told me you were here.” 

Keith hums in acknowledgement. His eyes flicker to every part of Lance’s face, like he doesn’t know where to look. 

“Hey,” Lance says, squirming a little closer to press their bodies flush together, which Keith doesn’t seem to mind at all. “I missed you.” 

Keith actually smiles, though it’s wobbly and weak. His gaze seems to settle easier. “You were asleep. You didn’t feel anything.” 

“I still missed you," Lance says, almost a whine. "I missed you so much that looking at you right now hurts.” 

Keith laughs quietly. “Not like how I do,” he says, and it makes Lance pause, because it must be true, and he hadn't meant to be insensitive but he feels a little guilty anyhow. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance tells him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and then another to each of his cheeks, and then a few more until Keith's laugh tickles his skin and he pulls away. “Speaking of sleep, how much have you been getting.” 

Keith wiggles a little in his grip, pressing a hand to his chest to put a little distance between them, though not much. “Some,” he says, and Lance knows instantly that it barely qualifies as a half-truth. 

“Not enough,” Lance concludes. “So go to sleep.” 

“No,” Keith says. “I want to keep looking at you.” 

Lance’s heart does a few flips in his chest before settling. “You can look at me all you want when your eyes aren’t bloodshot red and you aren't exhausted. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

Keith frowns, still looking unconvinced, but Lance presses a kiss to his forehead and his lips and then both his eyelids, and nestles him closer to his chest. Keith adjusts so his ear is pressed to Lance’s heart, and Lance tries not to think too hard about why he might have done that, mostly because it makes him want to cry again. 

“Good night, Keith,” Lance says, and is happy to find Keith’s fallen asleep too quickly to answer, his arms wrapped tightly around Lance, head to his chest, breathing evenly. 

*

Things really are the same since he woke up. Pidge is as easily annoyed as ever, although their is a grace period the first two days or so when she lets Lance linger a little longer in her space. Allura is just as demanding (though noticeably softer with Lance) as ever, Coran just as bubbly, Shiro just as whatever he was, and Hunk just as comforting. 

Except something is different. It takes him two weeks to pinpoint what it is exactly, and when he does the revelation does absolutely nothing to quell his confusion. 

It’s Keith. He’s everywhere, and intensely so. He clings to his hand everywhere they go, even on missions, and hugs him from behind otherwise. He’s always touching Lance in one way or another, either linking their pinkies or clinging to him like a koala. 

He’s always tucking Lance’s growing hair behind his ears, showering him with surprise kisses, falling asleep on him. When they’re alone he’s intense, almost desperate in the way he straddles Lance’s waist and drags his lips across the expanse of his chest. 

He also hasn’t taken off Lance’s jacket in thirteen days, which is a record even for Lance. 

It’s a lot really, and so abrupt that Lance almost can’t keep up. He doesn’t mind it at all. In fact he finds his heart swelling with so much fondness and affection that he’s afraid it might burst from his chest and go running towards Keith, because his heart really does belong to him, he really is the love of his life. 

But he is worried, because it’s different than the Keith he’s used to. So he resolves to figure things out. 

*

“Hey,” Lance says, flopping down on the chair across from Hunk and stretching out his slightly aching limbs. “Can I get your opinion on something?” 

Hunk is shaping food goo into something resembling a giant mushroom. Lance is unsure whether it’s for the aesthetic appeal or to somehow help with the actual taste. 

“What’s up?” Hunk says. 

“Well,” Lance begins, thinking of how to broach the subject and settling on just being as direct as possible. “Do you think there’s any particular reason Keith might be,” he flails his arms around in search for the words, “I don’t know, clinger than usual?” 

Hunk looks up from his haphazardly shaped mushroom. “What do you mean?” 

Lance ponders his next choice of words for a second, hand on his chin. “Like, I’ve always kind of been the clingy one in the relationship, ever since we first started dating, but now he just seems a lot more… attached.” 

Hunk seems to take a moment to think, and then he brings two gooey hands up to rest his chin on, leaning forward on two elbows, and looks Lance in the eyes. “Well first of all, I can tell you with the utmost certainty that Keith has always been just as clingy as you.” 

Lance scoffs lightly in disbelief. “Um…” He starts.  

“No, Lance," Hunk interrupts, putting up a hand for emphasis. "I mean it. It could be your distorted self-image that makes it hard to realize, but remember who was upset for weeks after you couldn’t remember your ‘bonding moment’? Remember who kissed you first?” 

“I mean, I guess that’s true.” 

“Yeah, it's true. And second of all, you did, how do I put this lightly, bleed out and almost die in his arms.” 

“Oh,” Lance says, and suddenly it hits him just how traumatic it must have been, for all of them. He'd thought of it before, but really in a more abstract way than actually putting himself in their shoes. Hunk hadn't really specified when he'd explained it to him, which Lance had figured was just because he hadn't felt the need to, but he realizes belatedly that maybe it was more because it hurt to remember. He's pretty sure he remembers something about his heart stopping, which, yeah, he wouldn't want to recollect either.   

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Hunk says gently. “Not to trivialize what you went through, but the rest of us came pretty close to a joint mental breakdown.” 

“I didn’t mean… I mean…” 

“It’s okay, Lance,” Hunk says quickly, waving his hand so a little food goo goes splattering across the counter. “Of course it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. And I know it’s sometimes hard for you to accept or grasp just how much we care about you, but we wouldn’t survive losing you, and we came pretty close to it. Keith might’ve taken it the worst.” 

“Right,” Lance says quietly. “Hunk, thank you.”

“No problem, buddy. Now go sort out your issues.” 

*

Lance wants to have a conversation, he really does. It’s only that the second he steps into Keith’s room, intent on having one, Keith has two hands on his waist and has dragged him to the bed, pushing him to the mattress before promptly climbing on top of him so his legs are straddling Lance’s waist, and his lips are on his mouth before Lance can even get a word in. 

Which is… nice, Lance thinks. He’s warm and flushed and his stomach is giddy with want and Keith is so beautiful with his hair framing his face that way and his eyes dark and his breath shallow, his hands already working with the zipper of Lance’s pants. But it’s also disorienting, and Keith has never been so abrupt, never so rough and frantic, almost like he’s afraid Lance will slip out from underneath him, and then he realizes that that’s it, and it snaps him out of his daze. 

“Keith,” Lance manages to get in between kisses. His hands are on Keith’s bare back, balancing him in place. “Keith, wait. Slow down.” 

Keith listens, pulling back to frown down at Lance, his hands resting on his chest. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

“No,” Lance answers too quickly, and then backtracks. “I mean, yes… but it’s not… I just need to talk to you.” 

“Okay,” Keith says slowly, but the look on his face is worried and wary. Before he can pull away though, Lance grabs him around the waist and pulls him down to smoosh him against his chest, then rolls over so they lay beside each other, face to face and a breath apart. 

“It’s about the last mission,” Lance starts. 

Keith frowns and looks away, as though the reminder physically pains him. Lance realizes belatedly that maybe it does. He wishes it hadn’t taken him so long to figure this out, because really it was pretty obvious. He wishes also, a little habitually and self-deprecatingly, that Keith didn’t care so much about him, because it hurt to see him hurting because of him. 

“What about it?” Keith asks, his voice slightly strained. 

“Well…” Lance pauses. “I know things didn’t go as planned." He mentally smacks himself upside the head for the way that came out. 

Keith actually scoffs at that, which Lance isn't entirely surprised at. “That’s a light way of putting it.” 

“Keith…” Lance tries. 

“You mean to say you nearly died,” Keith says sharply, and only the break in his voice gives away how much it effects him to say the words. “And that I was there to watch it.” 

“Keith, I didn’t know you were still thinking about it.” 

“It’s only been two weeks, Lance. Every time I look at you, I think… I see your blood, and it’s  _ everywhere.”  _ Keith’s voice chokes on the word. Lance rubs his thumb over his cheek and waits for him to go on, because he's not done, and Lance knows he needs to say this. He's been needing to for weeks now. 

Keith swallows and lifts a hand to wipe angrily at his watering eyes. “I’m more afraid for you than I am for myself, for anyone," he says, looking Lance in the eyes. "And you’re so… you would sacrifice yourself so easily, for anyone. I can’t look at you without thinking about losing you. I can't lose you, Lance.” 

“Keith…” Lance breathes, stunned and heart hurting. He holds Keith’s hand tightly in his, bringing it up to his chest and pressing it flatly against the skin where just beneath, his heart beats soundly, keeping him alive. 

“It’s just,” Keith continues. “I’m scared of what I would give up for you. I would sacrifice the entire universe to keep you safe. That terrifies me.” 

“I’m here now,” Lance says softly, pressing Keith's hand more firmly to his chest. “Yeah, this job is dangerous, but you haven’t lost me. I’m here now, and I’m not letting go of you, okay?”

Keith nods, squeezing his eyes shut like he hurts. Lance wipes away a stray tear from his cheek, kisses the other two that follow after. 

"I told you that I love you," Keith says, and Lance pulls away, stunned in the silence that follows Keith's confession. Keith doesn't seem too bothered by his lack of response, because he opens his eyes and goes on, his thumb rubbing at the side of Lance's face. "I didn't want to say it that way, but I was afraid I'd never get to. So I'm saying it properly now. I love you." 

"Oh," Lance says. His heart beats painfully in his chest, and he knows Keith can feel it because his hand is pressed firmly to his chest. He doesn't care though. He wants Keith to know what he does to his heart. "I love you, too." 

Keith smiles, and Lance thinks he's never seen anything or anyone more beautiful in his entire life.

"I know," he says, almost sly. "You almost died for me." 

"And I'd do it again," Lance says.  

Keith smacks him lightly on the shoulder. Lance wants to kiss the pout off his lips. "You'd better not," Keith says. "Be more careful next time, okay? All the time." 

“I will," Lance says, and he means it. He means his next words, too. "You know you're the love of my life, right?" 

Keith smiles, his eyes sparkling, prettier than the prettiest star Lance has seen. "And you're mine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahh thank you for reading! lmk what u thought with a comment or something i love hearing from u guys <3


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